


Shots taken in the Dark of Misunderstandings

by LoveRoundWorld



Series: Gordon Manages to save the day, And not be a dick to Oswald at the same time, Hurrah! [1]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Angry!Oswald, Angst, Don't worry I'm making a second series, Hurt!Jim, I don't know ahhh, It's almost done-just not as done as this was, M/M, Misunderstandings, Nice-to-Oswald!Jim (Odd: I know), Pre-Relationship, Protective Harvey too, angry, hurt!Oswald, pining with a dash of denial for Oswald!, protective Oswald, protective!jim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 12:01:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13146276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoveRoundWorld/pseuds/LoveRoundWorld
Summary: Jim wasn’t actually going to let Oswald stay and die by Maroni. He, in fact, get’s fatally injured, going back to try and save Oswald (When he went after Fish). Oswald doesn't know this, so he still thinks that Jim wanted him dead. So when Oswald finds out about Jim getting shot-not knowing why- Oswald is conflicted, wanting to be smug, satisfied, happy that the one he’d trusted-who’d turned on him (He believed) was injured. But the over powering emotion of worry and this need to destroy whoever got the lucky shot in-because it had to be lucky with Jim Gordon- and torture them with all his power and influenceAnd when Jim gets well enough to go home, Oswald decides it's time for a little bit of payback. He goes to gloat about Jim falling from Detective to patrolmen, and Oswald's own success. He wants Jim to suffer. Will he find out the truth behind Jim's wounds, or will he remain oblivious?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, I've been making this for a long time. However, I quickly finished up part one of this story because people and their biased, hurtful words. I needed some support a bit, and this isn't quite it, but it's kind of there. My Grandparents, my twin and I went out to dinner two nights ago, and we were talking about this guy. My brother opened his mouth and said something like 'ah, he's gay, right?' and Grandma just says 'ew! I don't want to talk about that! Ugh.' And it really hurt, because I came out as Demi-sexual, so I like girls and guys, it doesn't matter. I thought she'd excepted it, but... Anyway, then later, my brother was talking with her again, and they were talking about a guy-different-that was doing the /right/ thing and fighting his homosexual tendencies. And how that made my brother much more comfortable around in general. I didn't say anything, because...Well, I've been doing it for a while, and it always comes down to my family vs me. So, to spite their Mormonistic views on Gays and Lesbians and Demi-sexuals (Who must just be very confused, of course, ha!) I wanted to finish up one of my Fanfic's.  
> And, okay, I didn't really finish it up out of complete spite and hurt, I've been wanting to do this for a while, I just haven't had time. And then I did. (It was almost finished anyway.)  
> Sorry about the rant, venting my feelings guys! But I felt the need to tell someone (Even if most of you probably skip this part of the story, XD ) Happy Christmas, please enjoy and let me know your thoughts on this story below in the comments!

                Jim Gordon is in the hospital. He was shot that night, while Oswald had been busy taking care of Fish Mooney. 

               Oswald is conflicted, _wanting_ to be smug, satisfied, and happy that the one he’d trusted-who’d turned on him was injured. But the over powering emotion of worry and this need to destroy whoever got the lucky shot in-because it had to be lucky with Jim Gordon- and torture them with all his power and influence

                Plus, he just needed to go see Jim. Make sure he’d make it. Threaten doctors. Bribe them. He wanted to wait by his side the whole time-but his pride wouldn’t let him. Jim had wanted him dead-and even if he couldn’t want the same thing, he could hold onto his pride and not go see him. Well, at least not be there, hanging onto him as if his whole world depended on him.

                He goes to see him. Then he tracks down the men that did this-oh, lucky him, they were Fish’s men, unfinished business anyways! He took great pleasure and glee in torturing the three before finding out which of them had fired the shot. He’d killed the other two, and continued on torturing the other man until his heart gave out. That was slightly disappointing to Oswald, but what can you do?

                When Jim wakes up a month later, Oswald is relieved. He’s told Jim will make a full recovery at this rate-with a month of bed rest and another of physical training. He got off lucky, the doctors say.

                And then the anger washes over him. How dare Jim? He was well aware that he didn’t consider him a friend, but really?! Leaving him to possibly die? So, he decides to go gloat over Jim. He is the King of Gotham now, after all, and Jim is at his lowest-even in the job department, it seems.

 

                He makes sure to fix his collar before knocking on Jim’s door politely with a cold smile on his face. He’s told Gabe to wait in the car-Jim may be stronger than him normally, but now he is in no condition to man handle Oswald. Oswald will be safe. (He also knows that even if Jim was to the point of leaving him for certain death, Jim could never actively commit murder out of cold blood.)

                The shorter, well dressed man is surprised when he see’s Jim open the door. Not because he’s already up and going- He knows Jim is a stubborn man, so of _course_ he’d be up and on his own already. But rather, he’d been expecting Jim to see it was him and twist his face up in disgust or anger. Perhaps both. To slam the door in his face. Instead, he gets an excited smile from the man. Surprised, but excited to see Oswald.

                He certainly wasn’t expecting it, and it causes him to pause for a moment. But he shakes his head to clear it and plows on. “I see you’re enjoying being off the force, Friend.” He doesn’t say the last word with the warmth that he used to. Instead, he allows his contempt and anger in-none of his hurt. He smiles coldly as he pushes past Jim, his insides twisting a little to see Jim’s normal frown take over his face. At the loss of the smile. He inwardly snorts, it was probably whatever drugs Jim was on. Probably made him think Oswald was someone else.

                When Oswald comes into the living room, he looks around with vague interest. It was vaguely dirty, dust, and a few stray things like a tie and socks scattered around. He’d been surprised when he’d learned that Jim wasn’t staying at his girlfriends anymore. Had insisted that he’d be fine in his own apartment. It’s almost bare of anything other than a few pictures of an older couple, and two of what he assumes is a young Jim and perhaps his mother. Jim was very young in it-perhaps three. Finally, he turns to see Jim staring at him, a look over his face that screamed…he was a little at a loss as to something. And hurt a bit too.

                _Probably thought I’d come crawling back like normal._ Oswald thinks to himself in a hurt snarl. He watches as Jim’s eyes harden again. Jim’s eyes seem to search his own, before he nods, and gestures to a tall backed cushioned arm chair. Oswald raises an eyebrow, before shaking his head. “I won’t be staying long. Just wanted to see how my old _friend_ was doing in his knew de-elevated position.” He says silkily, as if he were truly here to see how Jim was. As if he were concerned for the man-and dammit, just because half of him was wanting to chide Jim for being up, for insisting on living alone instead of with someone to care for him…He shakes that off.

                Instead, his face turns into a parody of a smile, twisted and almost a snarl. Jim’s shoulders fall a little, as he takes the other chair in the living room. Oswald bites back the urge to help the struggling man, as his arms shake with the effort to slowly sit down in the small chair. _He should be relishing this, not wanting to help!_

                Once Jim is fully seated, he leans back with a sigh that tells how tired he is, physically. And pained. “It could be worse.” Is all he says, in his usual gruff voice.

                Oswald laughs, sharply. “Yes, I suppose you could be dead, or maybe in prison for helping Falcone?” He hisses.

                He in satisfaction as Jim winces at his jab, but bites it back as soon as it happens-his jaw twitching and working itself over. “Yeah.”

                Oswald is once more surprised at Jim’s easy, cool headed answer. In the past, Jim had always been quick to jump to anger and threaten Oswald. Once more, Oswald blames the drugs, and perhaps the sheer tired look on Jim’s face. “I, on the other hand fare well! I came in hopes of sharing wonderful news, Friend! I-“ He points at himself dramatically “Am now the king of Gotham.” He lets a genuine smile on his face, while he nods, leaning back onto his umbrella that he’s using as a makeshift cane.

                He expected outrage, threats that it wouldn’t last. Instead, he got a nodding Jim. “I kind of figured.” Jim says, when he sees Oswald’s quirked brow.

“Someone told you?”

                 Jim shakes his head. “No. But if you’re here, then Fish Mooney is either your prisoner, escaped or dead.” He says, simply. Oswald almost sighs. He forgets that Jim is a very good detective sometimes. And even then, that was logic that even the simplest of people would have jumped to.

                 “Yes. I made sure to have her permanently indisposed.” He says, instead, gleefully. Hoping it’ll get a rise out of the man. Get a reaction that he was anticipating, instead of how unpredictable Jim’s reactions have been.

                 Once more, he didn’t get what he’d expected. Jim sighed, and nodded. No yelling about morals, no chastising, or spitting about leaving him alone. Or even that he was going to report him. Instead, he changes the subject, slightly. “…No one’s…tried to kill you since, right?”

                 Oswald rears back slightly, surprised. If he didn’t know Jim, he’d say that was concern for the Mobster. But he did know Jim. Oswald sneers at the man. “None that succeeded.” He says, cheerfully. He knows he doesn’t have to tell Jim, that Jim will know that he’d kill any would be revengers or usurpers.

                 A look passes over Jim, and his face whitens a little before he says, “I’m glad.”

                 There it is. “Glad that people are trying to kill me? How unlike your usual moral compass, ex-detective!” He says in a sneer.

                 Jim has the audacity to look surprised. “No. I’m…Never mind.” He says with a sigh.

                Oswald’s curious what he was glad about, if not that. Or if he was trying to justify his happiness about Oswald’s attempted murderer’s. His insides roil at the thought of how he used to think they could be friends. Used to think the world of the man sitting broken in front of him. And how, despite everything, he still kind of does.

                Oswald rubs it in Gordon’s face for only a few more minutes, watching how Jim looked more lost with each passing one. He chalked it up to the fact that Jim was injured, and getting more tired.  

                Oswald leaves-after all, he has an important business to run! (It’s nothing to do with the fact that Jim needed his rest. Not at _all_ , he tells himself).

                He also ignores the flutter in his chest and stomach when Jim says to just let himself in, if he comes around again. It’s for Jim’s own convenience, not Oswald’s. Why should that make him flutter inside, he thinks disgusted.


	2. Chapter 2

                He comes back again, and Jim’s apartment is tidy, despite Jim being in his condition. Jim has a small smile when Oswald comes in, and struggles to sit up from his bed. He lets Oswald jibe at him and insult him as he continues into the kitchen.

                Finally, Oswald breaks and asks what in the world he’s doing. James smiles a little wider and rolls his eyes. He grabs out two plates and sets them on the table, a hot pad in the middle and then dished out food on both. “Dinner.” Is all he says, in his gruff voice.

                Oswald is a little shocked. He watches as Jim winces, sliding into his seat-serves him right-but also it makes him not complain or mock James-or question if it’s poisoned. He sits down as well and begins to eat. It’s not the best food out there-he’s the king of Gotham, he’s had the best-but it’s damn close. (That might be because it was James who cooked it, but he ignored this.)

                He doesn’t complement Jim on his food, but he doesn’t complain about it either.

                This goes on for a few times-him coming, Jim getting up and reheating dinner he’d already made-until Oswald relents a little.

                The next time he comes, it’s scheduled. On his way out the last time, he’d said vaguely that he would be busy, so he probably wouldn’t be able to come and gloat until this time next week. It was subtle, but it was…sort of his way of paying James back for the food. Also, he’s still waiting for James to snap at him. Get angry like he used to, try to physically put Oswald out of his apartment. It still hasn’t happened, which makes him confused and slightly less venomous. Wishing this had been what it was like before James had been willing to let him die. Maybe James is being so cordial, because he believes Oswald has put being his friend out of his mind, which hurts a little. He doesn’t know.

                He gets there, and there’s a wafting smell coming from within. His heart skips a beat, and he squashes down the fluttering in his stomach because _James was cooking for him- again._ That didn’t matter. He was here to gloat. No getting distracted just because of niceties. James was probably just hungry.

                James opens the door, and Oswald can’t help but notice his gait is more off than normal, but he’s smiling at Oswald. He greets him and leads him into the kitchen where everything is already set up. And it looks like a professional has been here. Oswald blinks in question. James turns a slight shade of pink. (Oswald tries not to focus on how much that makes him both proud and possessive of the ex-detective. He’s here on business, after all.)

                “I just thought…because I actually knew what time you _might_ be coming…I’d cook something. It’s my grandmother’s secret recipe.” He smiles fondly down at the dish as if remember ing his grandmother. This causes Oswald to remember the pictures in the living room, of the older couple.

                Something warms stubbornly in Oswald’s heart as he sits down to take a bite. It’s delicious. “Shouldn’t your new girlfriend be enjoying this dish about now, Jim? And not some Mobster?” He baits.

                Jim grimaces as he sits down-more like slumps. (Oswald finds himself thinking of getting Jim some comfortable dinner table chairs, but squashes the thought immediately. If the wooden chairs are uncomfortable, all the better.) He lets out a sigh. “Ex-girlfriend.” He says, taking a bite.

                “Oh?” He says, and his heart skips a beat a little.

                Jim just raises an eyebrow. “It was mutual.” He shrugs.

                He is not relieved. Not at all. Just because Jim was not with his girlfriend anymore didn’t mean he was available. Especially to Oswald. James wasn’t even interested in being friends with him, let alone have romantic notions for him. This makes Oswald harsher. “What were the reasons?” He asks, wanting to make Jim wallow in the pain.

                “Hers, or mine?” Looking nonchalant.

                He thinks about it. “Yours.”

                The blonde turns a bit red at having to explain-though with embarrassment or anger, Oswald did not know. “I uh… wasn’t in love with _her_. It didn’t feel right. So I asked to talk to her alone. And before I can get a word out…She says she can’t do this relationship anymore. I told her I agree. She was relieved. We’re still friends.” He says with a smile.

                “So, who are you in love with? Don’t tell me Barbara Keen.” Oswald mocks, hands knitted together on the table in front of him politely. Truly, that’s all he’d meant it to be, he did not expect James to blush even more. He hadn’t really expected to find out that he was in love with someone.

                “Ah, no. No, not Barbara.” Is all he says, and doesn’t say more. No matter how Oswald nags.

                Oswald takes his leave in a bit of a sour mood. Made worse at running into Detective Bullock on his way to his awaiting car at the side walk.

                Bullock glares at Oswald, and Oswald returns the full force of it back at him.

                But, instead of trying something-stupid, at this point because of Oswalds new position-The Detective _sighs_ and shrugs. “You two love birds make up yet?”

                Oswald splutters at this. “L-lov- what?! No, I came to gloat.” He replies indignant.

                The glare comes back. “That hardly seems fair of you.” He growls.

                “Fa-fair?! He was going to leave me to _Maroni_! To die!” He replies in a hiss.

                Bullock’s eyebrows jump. “He wouldn’t’ve.” He says, shaking his head.

                “I beg to differ! I was _there_!”

                Again, he shakes his head, his hands coming to his pockets. “Nah, you don’t understand. He might’ve said he would’ve, but he wouldn’t’ve. He wouldn’t’ve been able to.” He says. “He wouldn’t let you die, even if he had to deal with this sort of pain.” He gestures at the building Jim is in, indicating his shot up and bruised body.

                “I had to cash in my favor! Just so that a man I thought of as a friend wouldn’t let me die!” I ground out. “He _deserves_ this ‘sort of pain’.” I quote.

                Now this makes Bullock mad. He grabs Oswald by his dress shirt and slams him into a post sign. “Now you listen here, you little twerp. I don’t care how high up on the food chain you are, I can still eat you for breakfast. If Jim hadn’t’ve stepped between that bullet and-“

                “Harvey, that’s enough.” Jim’s pain filled voice comes to them, breaking the little bubble of rage they were stuck in. “Let him go.”

                Both men look up to see Jim standing there, leaning heavily against a railing, as white as a sheet. They both freeze, unsure what to do. On Oswald’s part, he doesn’t understand Jim defending him to Bullock, his best friend and ex-partner.

                “I said. Let. Him. Go. Harvey.” James grits out, stumbling forward a bit.

                Harvey instantly lets him go, to help his friend. Catching him, he looks worried. “The doc said not to overstrain yourself after your physical training today!”

                The tension bleeds out of Jim as Oswald watches on. “Yeah, well, I can’t sit by and watch you rough up Oswald.” His smile’s a little bit strained.

                Again, Oswald’s heart skips a beat-and he waves off Gabriel, who was ready to shoot them. James just used his first name. A slow smirk tries to form on his face-which he promptly squashes-when James seems to realize this, looking at him with some much needed color returned to his face, even if it was only to blush.

                Bullock rolls his eyes. “But the twerp doesn’t even know _why_ you’re in this condition!”

                “Harvey, just because someone doesn’t understand something you want them to, does not mean you get to rough ‘em up.”

                “Sure it does.” He grins.

                James looks at him deadpan. “I’m never allowing you to have kids.”

                Bullock snorts. “You’re one to talk.”

                James blushes a little, and smacks him. “Shut it. I could have kids-ish.” He replies.

                “Yeah, Ish. As in, you’d have to adopt.” He snickers.

                Was Jim sterile? Had the bullets…why would Bullock, his friend make fun of him for that?! A wave of anger washes over him. How dare Bullock! And why wasn’t Jim offended?

                James gave a weak smile. “Plenty of those kids need someone.” He says, turning pale again. “You guys aren’t going to…kill each other…right?” He pants out.

                Oswald stares pointedly at Bullock, and Bullock shrugs. “I won’t even touch him.” He says, the statement looking awkward without the detective’s usual flair of raised hands. His hands were otherwise preoccupied supporting Jim, apparently.

                “Good. Now help me back ups-” He passes out, and a wave of panic washes over Oswald. He rushes forward.

                Bullock just sighs and lifts him up better. “He’s alright, your _highness_. Just need to get him to bed, he’s overexerted himself.” He goes to move him, but stops once he realizes his grip isn’t good. “Mind getting your monkey to put him on my back? I know you hate him-which is stupid- but how will you gloat if he gets sick and dies?”

                Oswald nods for Gabe to help, and they all head up the stairs to Jim’s apartment. Once Jim is in bed, Bullock ushers them all out of the room. Once the door is closed, Oswald hisses at Bullock “Would you mind being generous enough to share what that was all about?” He means everything. James defending him, joking about him being sterile, why the why should matter behind James getting shot-after all, he already took care of the damn thugs- and why to the point of exhaustion.

                Bullock stares at him a moment. “Just sayin’ you’re gonna be awfully embarrassed when you realize why he was shot.” He says with a shrug.

                Oswald can tell that’s all he’s going to get from the detective about that. “And what about you both joking about Jim being sterile! That has to have been a bad blow to him, since he’s such a family kind of man. Why would you, his friend, bring up what is an undoubtedly painful subject for him?” He tries to reign himself in, he sounds dangerously close to threatening the man. Over an ex-friend.

                Bullock was stunned for a moment, a little confused. But then he burst out into laughter. “Jim ain’t sterile-that I know. But if he were he wouldn’t care. It wouldn’t fit into his…current…um…the lifestyle that he wants in the future. Not that that matters either. He seems to think that’s hopeless too.” He sighs.

                “You’re being vague.”

                “Deliberately. It ain’t my business to tell. It’s his.” He puts his hands up in surrender.

                Oswald can respect that. “Fine. What about him defending _me_ from _you_. To the point of passing out?”

                Bullock shrugs.

                Oswald sighs, pinching his nose. “Fine. If you’ll excuse us.” Gabriel is already at the door, opening it.

                “Hey, Penguin.”

                Oswald clamps down on a growl and slowly turns to look at him. “You might wanna check into that why before you come visit Jim again.” He says with a shrug. “Just some friendly advice.” He adds, before turning to the kitchen. “man, something sure smells goo-holy shit! Hey, wait!” He turns around once again with an exasperated sigh. “Did you bring this stuff? If so, from where?!”

                “James cooked it.” Oswald says, eyebrow cocked.

                “No way.” He stares. “Well…hell. I’ve known him for some while. The only person he ever cooked for was… Ah.” He nods and heads to the kitchen. “And even that was once…” He trails off, seemingly talking to himself.

                The ruffian was going to eat all of James’ food!

                “Boss.” Gabriel calls, still standing with the door open. Right.

                Oswald brusquely exits the apartment, and then the building. Once they were in the car, and a ways away from the apartment of James Gordon, Oswald addresses his henchman driving. “Gabriel. Send some men out to look for answers on _why_ James Gordon was shot thrice in the same night. I would like to know what Bullock of all people is acting high and mighty about.”

                “Alright Boss.” Gabriel gives a nod in Oswalds direction through the mirror.

                Oswald was too busy contemplating his stubborn feelings and trying to find new masks without any chinks in them.

               

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, will he or won't he find out the truth? What will he do? (It's not like you have to wait, so...Haha)


	3. Chapter 3

                “I got that information you wanted about Detective Gordon, sir.” Gabriel says, entering the room.

                Oswald forces himself to smirk smugly. “Ex-Detective, Gabriel.” Oswald says, watching as Gabriel merely nods. “Well?”

                “You ain’t gonna like it, boss.” Gabriel explains bluntly.

                This makes Oswald curious. What more could Gordon have done that he wouldn’t like? He gestures for Gabriel to go ahead.

                Gabriel hands him a folder, and Oswald opens it, scanning it as his eyes widened in horror. “It seems like he was protecting your blind side, boss.”

                Oswald couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Or hearing. What? He read further. It wasn’t an official report. This was from various people who gave eyewitness reports- one even indirectly from Harvey. His new girlfriend, Scottie. _He told me “well, Jimbo couldn’t exactly let them kill the penguin on account of them…being friends and all. I told him not to get attached to the slimy git, but well. Jim’s Jim, I suppose.”_  Oswald’s heart flutters in his chest. _Oh_. That’s why Detective Bullock said…that he could not have done what he threatened…

                What was he supposed to do now? His hands shakily lower the papers down as he clenches them. He’d been so horrible, how could James-his friend-forgive him?? He growls, shoving a good portion of things off of his desk in front of him.

               

 

               

                “What is the matter?” His mother called down to him from his sat position on the couch, head in his hands. He came here for some sort of comfort, some sort of advice maybe. But he didn’t know where to start explaining. And his mother had always been wary of others in her son’s life. “A mother can tell these things.” She adds.

                Oswald groans. “Mother, I’ve messed up.”

                His mother sits down by him and rubs his shoulders. “No, my Oswald does not mess up. You are perfect!”

                He lets out a sob. “I did, mother. I did.”

                She brings him into a hug. “Is this over a girl?” She asks suspiciously.

                He half laughs, shaking his head on his mother’s shoulder. “No. A man.”

                “What has he done to my Oswald?” She asks, her voice dangerously close to a hiss.

                “Nothing!” He cries. “I misunderstood something. And I hated him for what my own misgivings about him were. And then…and then he got shot. Three times! And he was in the hospital for a month in a coma, and I didn’t visit except once to make sure he was alive, I hated him!

                And then he was on bed rest at home, with a job demotion, he was at his lowest. And I thought it was a good idea to go and taunt him. For weeks I taunted him mother. I jibed at him because of my elevation in status and his decent into the lowest of his career! For weeks!

                He never said anything. It was his ex-partner that gave me reason to look into the _why_ he was shot!”

                His mother patted him on the back. “There-there. It sounds as if you were justified?”                 He laughs bitterly, pulling away from his mother. “I certainly thought so! I thought he was going to leave me to die, but he wasn’t. I found this out today! The opposite, in fact!”

                “I do not understand.” She says, a look of uncertainty crossing her features.

                “The shooters? They were aiming at me!” He laughs. “They were trying to kill me, mother.” He nods his head at her horror. “Yup! And Jim…” he pauses, slumping into the couch. “Jim did what he always does. He saved me. At the probable cost of his own life! Again!”

                His mother was silent for a long moment. “Again?”

                “Yes.” He says quietly. “He’s risked his own hide, his own life for me at least five times that I’ve known of. He never holds it over me though, like other cops would. Like other people would. I should have known he wouldn’t have told me this time. He’s selfless mother.” He tells her.

                “This man, he is the one you said you could trust when you returned yes?” he nods in response. “Detective James Gordon?”

                “Ex-detective.” He whispers, grimacing how he had lorded that over Jim.

                She nods understandingly. “And what was his response to you taking out your frustrations on him?”

                He doesn’t argue about how childish he sounded. “Nothing. He did nothing. He let me. And…and even in his condition-mother, he can barely walk! He’s in pain often-even in his condition…he cooked for me! Twice. He never cooks. Apparently, there’s only one other person he’s cooked for, according to Harvey Bullock, his ex-partner. And that was only once. I-I think he was trying to earn back _my_ trust and forgiveness!” he shook his head. “I don’t know how I’m going to…ever earn his. He risked his life for mine many times, and I give him venom in return! Just the other day, the day he cooked his grandmothers secret dish for me, Bullock attacked me for my ignorance down in the street. James managed to get all the way down to demand Bullock to leave me alone! He was as white as a sheet…James is a good man, Mother. And I don’t want to lose him.” He was crying again. He doesn’t say how he knows he himself is not a good man. How he feels conflicted that James had saved him this last time, even though he stood for everything James tried to get rid of in Gotham.

                His mother looked conflicted for a moment before her face softened. “My Oswald. Not all is lost. He make you dinner, in his condition, even though he shot for you? There is man willing to forgive, Oswald.”

                “But I don’t deserve it, mother. Not this time.”

                “Then you earn it.”

                “How?” His voice was small, like a child’s.

                “By giving him back what he loves. By cooking for him. I know my Oswald makes a wonderful dish! By talking.” She says. “Spoil him. You do dese things for me, I know you can make same good choices for him.”

                And suddenly, Oswald knew what to do. He would get James Gordons title of Detective back. He would replace Commissioner Loeb with Chief Essen and he would get a trust worthy Chief. And then he would make a dish, one that James would love, and come over to surprise him with congratulations on his making Detective once more.

                “Thank you, mother.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And, he knows!!! Whoooooot!


	4. Chapter 4

                Oswald clears his throat, fixing his Continental Cross tie. He’s dressed as he usually is, but something makes him fidget, and check every three seconds. He had two fancy Tupper ware bowls. Parmesan Chicken And steamed vegetables.

                He’s earlier than usual. It’s four thirty, and he had reasoned to himself that this was late enough for an early dinner. Right? He just couldn’t wait much longer, is all. He had pulled the strings necessary for James to come back as Detective, right along-side Harvey Bullock. He made sure that James knew about it now. He only had two weeks until he could be back out there working.

                He had also taken the liberty of picking out more comfortable chairs for the kitchen-he didn’t have the other ones thrown out, because he did not know if they held sentimental value. He had them put in the kitchen while James was out yesterday. He was of course, there for this. They might be thieves under Oswald’s employ, but thieves they still were.

                But his brain is getting off topic. All he needed to do was knock now. Or should he just enter? He didn’t want to make James get up to answer the door for him, but he certainly didn’t want to seem rude either…

                Just then, the door opens-answering the question for him. He smiles nervously, until he notices who it is. Doctor Thompkins. James’ ex. Had she come to…had they made up? But James had said that he didn’t love her. And he was in love with someone else…So what was she doing here?

                Manners. “Hello, Dr. Thompkins. It’s been a while.” He greets instead.

                On her part, she also looks slightly surprised. He watches as she takes in what he’s wearing and the Tupperware bowls he’s holding. And he watches as her face turns into a slight smile. “Hello, Mr. Cobblepot. Are those for Jim?” She asks, gesturing to them with the folders in her hand.

                He looks down at them, feeling his cheeks pink a little. “Ah, yes.” Why was she holding folders if she was visiting James? If she had just come from work, she could’ve left them in her car… “An apology of sorts.” He says.

                Her eyes seem to light up in…delight? She goes to move around him while explaining. “Oh good! I was just on my way out, I’ll get out of your-“

                “Oswald?” Comes James’ voice, as he comes into view of the door. He takes in Dr. Thompkins trying to get around Oswald, and Oswald, holding food, looking confused. James turns a light shade of pink as he comes forward. “Ah, Oswald. I didn’t know you were coming! Ah. Um. Leslie here is sort of my therapist for now. Not that I need one, it’s just er- policy at the precinct after going through traumatic experiences.” He stutters out.

                Is James…Rambling? Oswald looks over at Dr. Thompkins to see her eyebrow arched in amusement. Her eyes turn to look at Oswald, and a slight smile breaks her face. “Yes, now that it’s been explained why the ex was here-other than as a friend, as I often visit as _that_ too-” She eyes James, who blushes even harder. “and established that in no way are we back together-ever, I’ve got my eye on someone too, you know Jim-I’ll just step away to let you two kiss and make up.” She sends Oswald a wink as she saunters down towards the elevator. Oswald’s confusion fights down the blush.

                James gives a quick wave at her in goodbye, before turning back to Oswald. “Don’t mind her. Her and Harvey have been teasing me since…” He trails off, glancing away from Oswald, his mouth frowning a little.

                “Since you got shot for me.” Oswald supplies, suddenly also looking away. Down at the food he’d made for them.

                He sees James’ head whip over to look at him. “Er…You found out about that, huh?” Oswald is surprised when he hears embarrassment in James’ voice, instead of anger. Even though he knew the possibility of James being mad at him was slim-given the way James had been trying to be friendly with Oswald, despite Oswald’s obvious misinterpretation of the situation.

                He looks up, needing James to know he wouldn’t have treated him this way, had he known. And even though he hadn’t known, he should have guessed that James would never purposely let someone die… “I’m sorry, old friend. I didn’t have any clue that…that’s what you were injured over. Even if I hadn’t, I should have had more faith in you.” Oswald looks his friend dead in the eye, pleading.

                James shakes his head. “I didn’t want you to find out.” He says, opening the door wider, to let Oswald in past him. Oswald walks in, and James shuts the door. “And it’s understandable that you’d be mad, Oswald.” Oswald’s heart skips at his name. “I threatened to leave you there to die. I shouldn’t have. I hope you know, I really wouldn’t have, either. I couldn’t, not with…I was just angry.”

                “Even so, I should have had faith in you, Jim. I should have known, even if you didn’t really want me as a friend, you wouldn’t knowingly leave someone to their death. It’s not you.” He’s aiming to show James he understands, and he thinks he gets it. But he’s also pleased to see a blush on James’ cheeks blossom.

                “I-Well…Even…Even if that were me…I wouldn’t have left _you_.” James says, scratching the back of his neck. They are still in the hallway of his apartment. Oswald looks at his friend, curious. His face is steadily getting redder. “Even…even though I had…protests of being your friend…” He trails off into a mutter.

                “Sorry, what was that, James?” Oswald asks, amused but mostly sincere.

                “I said, I do consider you a friend.” He says, a little louder.

                Oswald is blown well and truly out of the water. To his knowledge, there are only a few people in James’ repertoire that he considered friend. All of them good guys. Or girls. Oswald smiles, and because he’s here to apologize and regain James’ friendship and trust, he doesn’t let James stew in his awkwardness. He lifts up his Tupperware in a gesture of offering. “I brought the food this time.” He says.

                James looks down at it, curious. “Did you make that?” he asks, glancing up at Oswald.

                Oswald proudly nods, before clearing his throat. “I believe you are supposed to be taking it easy, James. Let’s get you to the table to sit down.” Oswald nods his head for James to hurry into the kitchen. James almost looks ready to protest, but instead smiles a little and walks forward.

                Oswald follows him at a brusque pace. He sets his food on the counter, still warm. Then, after he’s sure James has sat down, he goes about finding two plates and some glasses for whatever beverage James has in his fridge. He then dishes out the Lamb Chops and lemon Rice onto each plate, humming a little to himself. He steps back, and when he deems himself satisfied, he goes to the fridge, rummaging around.

                “Would you like milk, Jim?” It’s about the only beverage in his friends cold box.

                “Er…Yeah, thanks.” Oswald throws a smile over his shoulder at Jim, and limps over to fill the two glasses with milk before putting it back.

                He brings the plates over first, and then the cups. He sits down-pleased to note that James was using the chairs he had put in the kitchen. He looks across the table, catching James staring at him. “What is it?” He asks.

                “Nothing. Just…Thanks.”

                “You’ve made me two meals while injured. It’s the least I could do.” He waves his hand dismissively.

                James grins. “And thanks for the new furniture.”

                Oswald clears his throat. “Your old ones looked uncomfortable. And, again, your injured. These will be more suitable while you remain so.”

                He’s still grinning, fork now in hand. “And thanks for my job back. And Chief Essen’s promotion to commissioner.”

                “Yes, well…” he hadn’t expected James to catch on. But he _is_ a detective… “All I did was get Loeb fired and put her on top of the list. Loeb was…not really suited for the job.” He would have been perfect for the Penguin to use, or any gangster who got to him first. But Oswald hadn’t lied. Commissioner wasn’t supposed to be corruptible. Not so easily, anyway.

                “Ch-I mean Commissioner Essen will be harsher on your business…” James says, taking a bite of his food. He stops for a second, eyes widening. “This is good.” He compliments around a small moan of appreciation. “And I’m bad for business too.” He adds looking pointedly at Oswald.

                Penguin waves a hand. “I’m more discrete than my predecessor. I won’t need corrupt cops. Besides, I’d rather cops that actually want to protect people, than cops that hold grudges over me having blackmail. Who knows. Maybe one day they’ll be in a position to help me or kill me. Let’s give them less reason to do the latter.” He explains away.

                James snorts. “Just say ‘you are welcome, Jim Gordon.’” He laments.

                Oswald pushes around his own food with his fork. A bad manner, he’d thought he’d gotten rid of. “There isn’t anything for you to thank me for. We’re friends, and I’ve treated you badly the last three months. This is purely my selfish need to repay your kindness.”

                He looks up to see James’ eyes soften on him. He doesn’t say anything. He just smiles a small smile and turns back to his food. Before he takes a bite, he mutters something that sounds suspiciously like ‘thanks anyway.’.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is the end. Of part one. There's two parts of this, and I'm halfway through the other one (Where they will finally get together, after a bit of angst, of course. It's also sort of fluffy. At the end.) I hope that you enjoyed, and as always, Let me know guys!!!  
> Happy Christmas!


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